


In Winter Enjoy

by Black_Crystal_Dragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cold, Cold Weather, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Ice Skating, M/M, Protective Arthur, Sick Merlin (Merlin), Snow, Snowball Fight, Winter, cameo from Gaius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2019-04-24 06:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Crystal_Dragon/pseuds/Black_Crystal_Dragon
Summary: It had been promising snow for the past week, the clouds white and pregnant above Camelot, and Merlin had been disappointed twice already when he had bounded to his window expecting snow and had seen only a thin, slippery layer of frost …Finally the snow arrives and Merlin spends the day with Arthur.





	In Winter Enjoy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [x_merlin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=x_merlin).



> Written for the [merlin_the_elf](https://merlin-the-elf.livejournal.com) Secret Santa in 2008 for [x_merlin](https://x-merlin.livejournal.com/). The prompt was ‘snow’ and ‘fluff’ – but then I started writing, and it just sort of grew. (Title is a snatch of a Proverb of Hell, from The Marriage of Heaven & Hell by William Blake, though that's pretty irrelevant to the fic itself.)
> 
> Archived to AO3 17 April 2018. ~~The perfect time to post Christmas fic.~~ ~~I can't believe this thing is nearly 10 years old.~~

The first thing Merlin noticed when he drifted awake was the chill in the air; it had been growing for weeks. He shivered and pulled his blanket closer around him, hiding his face from the world in his pillow. He could hear Gaius pottering about in his workroom, presumably making breakfast for them both; he was making no attempt to be quiet, which meant that Merlin should have been up at least half an hour ago. Merlin sighed deeply and rolled over onto his back, finally opening his eyes and staring up at the ceiling.  
  
The quality of the dim, early-morning light was brighter than the day before. Merlin levered himself up into a sitting position and turned towards his window; the daybreak sounds that normally drifted up from the town seemed strangely muffled. He felt the excitement close around his chest and fought back a smile.  
  
It had been promising snow for the past week or so, the clouds white and pregnant above Camelot, and he had been disappointed twice already when he had bounded to his window expecting snow and had seen only a thin, slippery layer of frost. Today, however, was different; today, Merlin instinctively knew that there would be snow blanketing the castle, the town and the fields and woods beyond. He climbed out of bed, wincing at the icy touch of the floor against his bare soles, and padded across to the window.  
  
Sure enough, the ground outside was smothered in a thick swathe of snow, tinged slightly blue by the pale dawn light. The courtyard below Merlin’s window was an expanse of almost completely unbroken white, spoiled only by a few trails of footprints following the lines of the castle walls. It was still early enough for the streets of the town to be pristine, the crisp snow effectively hiding the icy winter mud. Even though he knew that it would be turned to grey slush within a few hours by the tramping of guards and townsfolk and domestic animals, Merlin was still young enough to feel a child-like thrum of excitement, a slow grin spreading across his face.  
  
“Merlin!” Gaius called from the workroom. “Breakfast!”  
  
Merlin sighed and turned away from the window. He threw on his winter clothing quickly, trying to expose as little skin as possible to the biting cold of the air, and then hurried through to find Gaius already tucking into his steaming bowl of porridge. Merlin flashed him a brilliant grin. “Morning!”  
  
“Good morning,” Gaius replied, glancing up at Merlin. He gestured at the bowl waiting on the other side of the table, then at the pot of honey had had set out. “Help yourself.”  
  
“Oh, no thanks – best not keep Arthur waiting –”  
  
“Merlin,” Gaius said firmly, stopping Merlin in his tracks half-way to the outer door. He sighed and turned around. The physician raised his expressive eyebrows, and Merlin reluctantly slumped down opposite him and grabbed a spoon, starting to drizzle honey over his breakfast. Gaius watched him for a moment. “I take it your eagerness to be out of here has something to do with the snow?”  
  
Merlin glanced up, his spoon half-way to his mouth, and shrugged. “It’s just snow.”  
  
“Of course it is,” Gaius replied with a small smile. He was using the same tone of voice he employed when he knew Merlin was lying about not using magic, but he didn’t press the subject, and for once allowed Merlin to eat quickly enough to cause indigestion without comment. He did, however, stop Merlin on the threshold and insist that he wrap an extra scarf around his neck. Merlin grinned his thanks, then dashed off down the corridor in the direction of the courtyard: a route to Arthur’s rooms he had been avoiding since the advent of the cold weather, as it forced him to go outside. Gaius shook his head at his retreating back, chuckling to himself.

*

By the time Merlin reached Arthur’s chambers, he was late. He was also uncomfortably damp thanks to a chance meeting with Gwen as he crossed the courtyard, which had led to a brief but furious snowball fight. He paused outside Arthur’s door to straighten his clothes, then knocked tentatively and walked in.  
  
He was surprised to find that the prince was still in bed; normally when Merlin was this spectacularly late he was up and pacing, if not storming in the direction of Gaius’ quarters to find him. Arthur raised his head from his pillows and shot Merlin a bleary glare.  
  
“Good morning,” Merlin tried. Arthur threw a pillow at his head. Merlin just managed to snatch it out of the air before it made contact.  
  
“Get the fire going, it’s bloody freezing in here,” Arthur grumbled, before rolling over and pulling the covers over his head. Merlin forced himself not to laugh at the prince’s petulant behaviour and did as he was told. It took only a few minutes and a touch of surreptitious magic to create a blazing fire upon the previous night’s embers.  
  
“Fire’s lit,” he called, walking over to Arthur’s cupboard and starting to select clothes for the prince to wear. Behind him, he heard Arthur make a pleased sort of noise and smiled. “Red tunic or brown?”  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
“Yes, sire?” Merlin asked without turning, plucking at a loose thread on the cuff of Arthur’s favourite tunic and wondering whether it would cause the whole sleeve to fray if he didn’t get it fixed immediately.  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, sounding extremely put-upon. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”  
  
Merlin took a deep, calming breath and put the tunic down before turning around. Arthur had come out from beneath the covers and propped himself up on one elbow; he was smiling at him in a way that sent warmth spiralling through Merlin’s stomach. The prince made a ‘come hither’ gesture. Obediently – how could anyone refuse that particular smile? – Merlin walked across and sat on the edge of the bed while Arthur rolled onto his back and stretched languidly, his eyes closing to slits but never once leaving Merlin’s face.  
  
“It’s time to get up,” Merlin said, but did not resist when the prince grabbed a handful of the scarf Gaius had given him and used it to pull him down into a kiss. Merlin sighed against Arthur’s mouth, twisting into a more comfortable position and resting one hand on the prince’s chest for balance. He felt Arthur smile against his lips, tugging harder on the scarf in an attempt to pull him closer. Merlin, however, reluctantly broke the kiss and gave Arthur a disapproving look. “Come on, you can’t stay in bed all day.”  
  
“I can do whatever I want,” Arthur said in his most obnoxious tone, but he did let go of Merlin’s scarf and let him rise to his feet unhindered.  
  
“Well, if you do, you’ll be missing out,” Merlin told him, going over to the window and throwing back the thick curtains. “It snowed last night.”  
  
“So that’s why you’re all wet,” Arthur smiled, sitting up and looking Merlin up and down, taking in the patches of wetness where Gwen’s snowballs had impacted and melted. After a moment, he shifted down towards the foot of the bed, craning to see out of the window without actually getting up. “Is it deep?”  
  
Merlin shrugged, taking a selection of Arthur’s clothes from his wardrobe and setting them down at the foot of his bed. “Fairly – a good few inches, and it’s drifted in places.”  
  
“Fantastic.” Arthur threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed, his feet protected from the harsh cold of the stone floor by the thick rug at his bedside. He pulled off his nightshirt and started to dress, his skin erupting in goosebumps despite the warmth of the fire. “Have you ever been skating?”  
  
“Skating?” Merlin frowned, stepping closer to help the prince with the ties of his tunic.  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, idiot – skating. On ice? You’re not telling me that people don’t skate in Ealdor.”  
  
“I know what it is,” Merlin protested patiently. “I’m just not sure where you’re going with this conversation.”  
  
“Just answer the question, Merlin,” Arthur sighed, grabbing the jacket that Merlin passed him and shrugging it on.  
  
“When I was little, me and some of the other children used to go skating on the pond when it froze over. But the ice didn’t get all that thick and the pond was only small, so … I’ve not tried in ages.”  
  
“Well, you’re in luck,” Arthur said, sliding an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. “I received news yesterday that the lake in the woods has frozen over – and I’m sure we’ll be able to find an old pair of skates for you to wear.”  
  
“I _really_ don’t think that’s a good idea,” Merlin said quickly, trying to duck out from under Arthur’s arm. For one thing, Arthur’s royal we actually meant that it would be Merlin searching high and low for a pair of half-decent skates. For another, it had been literally years since Merlin had last set foot on ice, and he was absolutely certain that he would have lost any skill he might once have had.  
  
Arthur tightened his arm, pulling Merlin sharply against his side and preventing his escape. “Nonsense. It’s a brilliant idea. Now – how about some breakfast?”

*

All in all, the skating was a bit of a disaster. Really, Arthur should have seen it coming. Merlin was a clumsy, gangly oaf at the best of times – all knees and too-long legs and no coordination – so the consequences of taking him onto a slippery surface to do something that involved possessing grace and poise ought to have been obvious.  
  
Merlin, when he fell over for the sixth time and Arthur gave up on not laughing, accused him of arranging the whole thing for his own amusement and tried to storm off back to the shore. Since he was having trouble keeping his feet under him, the effect was somewhat spoiled. Arthur watched him flailing and trying not to let his feet skid off in opposite directions, and smiled fondly.  
  
Twelve feet from the shoreline, Merlin slipped, wavered for a moment, then toppled over backwards. Arthur gritted his teeth and clamped down hard on the bubble of laughter rising up in his throat. Once he had schooled his face into a sympathetic expression, he skated over.  
  
“Show off,” Merlin grumbled, scowling at Arthur’s outstretched hand. He tried unsuccessfully to scramble upright on his own, his feet slithering all over the place; Arthur took pity on him and grabbed hold of his arms, hauling him to his feet. Merlin tried to yank himself out of Arthur’s grip so violently that both of them almost fell over.  
  
“Merlin!” Arthur half-shouted. Merlin stilled, his eyes downcast and a very slightly repentant expression on his face. The prince allowed himself a small smile. “That’s better.”  
  
Without ever completely letting go of him, in case he somehow managed to lose his footing while standing completely still, Arthur skated around until he was standing behind Merlin and carefully slid his hands around his manservant’s waist, folding his arms around his torso.  
  
“What are you doing?” Merlin asked suspiciously, craning his neck in an attempt to see Arthur’s face. The prince chuckled against the half-inch of bare skin between Merlin’s scarf and his hairline.  
  
“You _are_ going to enjoy this, Merlin,” he said firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument. Merlin did not look even remotely convinced. Arthur sighed. “Look, just – try not to move your feet.”  
  
“What? Why –?” Merlin began, but before he had a chance to finish Arthur pushed off with his skates, propelling Merlin forwards in front of him. Merlin squawked, completely ignoring what Arthur had just told him and allowing his feet to slide all over the place, clutching at Arthur’s arms. “I really don’t think this is a good idea!”  
  
“It’s a perfectly good idea,” Arthur insisted, squeezing him a little tighter so that he wouldn’t get any ideas about escaping into his head. “Stop squirming, and keep your damned feet _still_.”  
  
Merlin stopped moving and managed to bring his feet under some sort of control, although he remained tense against Arthur’s chest. The prince brought them to a controlled halt in the centre of the lake and rested his chin on Merlin’s shoulder.  
  
“There. That wasn’t so bad.”  
  
“Suppose not,” Merlin conceded. Arthur could feel him finally beginning to relax, his fingers releasing their death-grip on the thick material of his winter jacket. After a moment’s silence, he turned his head to peer at the prince. “Why are you doing this?”  
  
“You’d only get cold, sitting on the shore and watching me,” he pointed out, trying to be gruff and princely and aloof, and knowing by Merlin’s grin and the way he ducked his head that he had utterly failed. He narrowed his eyes and removed his chin from Merlin’s shoulder so that he could press his cold nose into Merlin’s neck, making sure that he made contact with warm skin despite the thick scarf and neckerchief. Merlin yelped and squirmed, and once again almost had the pair of them flat out on the ice.  
  
“I told you to keep still!” Arthur grumbled, when had had them both balanced again.  
  
“You put your cold nose on my neck!”  
  
“That,” Arthur said firmly, pulling Merlin close so that his body followed the curve of Merlin’s spine, “Is no excuse.”  
  
Then, before Merlin could argue further, he started to skate across the ice, pushing Merlin in front of him once again. Merlin’s hands gripped his sleeves momentarily, then he leant back into Arthur’s body with a sigh. Arthur started a slow, lazy spiral that would eventually bring them back to the shore where their things lay abandoned in the snow.  
  
“Thank you,” Merlin said after a while.  
  
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur told him affectionately, tightening his arms around Merlin for a moment. Merlin, in a fit of uncharacteristic obedience, shut up.

*

Once they were back on solid ground, Merlin heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed backwards into the snow to pull the skates off his feet. Arthur carefully picked his way across to a nearby fallen log and followed suit. “Anyone would think you weren’t having a good time.”  
  
“Oh, I was!” Merlin assured him quickly, all too aware of the hurt tone in Arthur’s voice. The prince looked up, unconvinced; Merlin ignored him and waved a hand at his boots in the hope that he would take the hint and pass them over. Arthur stared at him for a moment, his eyebrows raised in amusement, and then threw Merlin his boots rather more forcefully than was necessary. Merlin tugged them onto his feet then stood up and went to grab the bag for their skates from the far side of the log. Arthur passed his skates over for Merlin to put away, then occupied himself with his own boots.  
  
Once the skates were safely stowed in the bag, Merlin dropped it back onto the snow and paced over to the far side of the clearing, listening to the soft crunching sound of his own footsteps. He heard Arthur laugh, and spun just in time to see the prince shaking his head, turning his attention back to his boots. “You are such a child, Merlin.”  
  
For a moment, Merlin scowled at the back of Arthur’s head. Then, struck by a sudden idea, he smirked and crouched down. He scooped up two handfuls of snow, compacting them into a ball as he stood and carefully took aim. A moment later, the snowball exploded against the back of Arthur’s head.  
  
Arthur yelped as Merlin let out a triumphant laugh, then went very, very still, his shoulders hunched against the shower of snow that had gone down the back of his collar.  
  
“ _Merlin_.”  
  
Merlin tensed, watching Arthur carefully. He was fairly sure that he wouldn’t be thrown in the stocks. Arthur often used the stocks as a threat, but even before they had started sharing a bed it had been an empty one. Exposing Merlin to the townspeople as a form of cruel amusement was more Uther’s style than his son’s. However, Arthur was not above retaliation.  
  
“Well, you did just call me a child,” he pointed out, by way of an explanation. There was complete silence and stillness for a moment. Then Arthur moved, spinning around and swiping a handful of snow off the top of the log as he did so. Merlin was ready for him; even as Arthur launched his snowball, he was running for cover. The first snowball hit his shoulder and made him stagger; the second hit the oak tree he darted behind.  
  
“Coward!” Arthur crowed. Merlin ignored him, concentrating instead on building up a small hoard of snowballs. He could hear the steady crunch of Arthur’s footsteps as he started walking, and smiled. The prince, in defiance of years of training, was putting himself out in the open. Merlin grabbed a snowball in each hand and waited. He wanted a clear shot. The crunching of Arthur’s footsteps stopped. “Come out and fight me like a man!”  
  
Merlin struck, ducking out from behind the tree and hurling one snowball after another at Arthur. The first one caught him in the chest, but the second sailed over his head as Merlin tried to dodge and throw at the same time. Apparently, Arthur wasn’t completely stupid, and had prepared a couple of missiles of his own.  
  
One of Arthur’s snowballs thudded into the side of Merlin’s head just above his ear as Merlin turned to grab more of the snowballs he had prepared a moment ago. He shook the snow out of his hair, laughing as he turned back to Arthur, and felt something in his stomach squirm to see concern battling with the amusement on Arthur’s face. He threw a snowball, to reassure Arthur that he was all right, and was fairly certain that Arthur let it hit him on purpose.  
  
All too quickly, Merlin was down to his last pair of snowballs. Both missed spectacularly as Arthur dodged, and Merlin was forced back into the cover of his tree, panting heavily.  
  
“You can’t hide behind there forever!” Arthur called, and Merlin could hear the laughter in his voice. Arthur was genuinely enjoying himself. Merlin grinned, and started making more snowballs, ignoring the stinging cold of the snow on his bare hands.

*

Half an hour later, Merlin collapsed behind the sycamore tree he had decamped to a short while before and stuck both hands under his armpits. Despite his broad grin, his fingers were starting to go numb, his clothes were soaked with melted snow, and he was starting to shiver. He also had the horrible feeling that Arthur had won.  
  
“Arthur?” he called, leaning his head back against the tree. “Can we have a truce?”  
  
“Giving up, Merlin? That’s not like you,” Arthur teased. Merlin smiled and shook his head, but did not interrupt. “Well, if you really feel that your skills are so inferior to mine, then I suppose it’s only fair to call a truce before you start getting upset.”  
  
“Promise you won’t throw any more snowballs at me,” Merlin insisted, letting Arthur’s jibe go this time.  
  
The prince laughed. “Don’t you trust me?”  
  
“No,” Merlin replied. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t entirely true; Merlin would gladly entrust Arthur with his life. He would not, however, put it past him to floor him with a merciless volley of snowballs after calling a shaky truce, just so that he could outright win. When all he received from Arthur was a stony and rather hurt silence, Merlin sighed and climbed to his feet before reluctantly venturing out from his hiding place.  
  
Arthur miraculously resisted the urge to throw the snowballs he held in each hand. Merlin allowed himself to relax, and started to walk towards the rather lop-sided and haphazard snow fort that Arthur had scraped together while Merlin had been busy catching his breath and building up his ammunition. As Merlin approached, however, Arthur began to frown. He dropped both the snowballs and stepped over the wall of his fort, hurrying over to meet Merlin half-way. He took hold of his shoulders, for once making no attempt to hide his concern.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“Just cold,” Merlin replied, smiling reassuringly. Arthur released one of his shoulders so that he could pull off a glove with his teeth; he took the glove out of his mouth, then reached out to touch Merlin’s cheek with his bare knuckles. He hissed at the contact.  
  
“You’re freezing, Merlin!”  
  
Merlin huffed a laugh, finally taking his hands out from under his arms. He wiggled his fingers at Arthur. “Wait ‘til you feel my hands.”  
  
The prince passed the glove into his other hand, then caught hold of Merlin’s fingers; Merlin saw his eyes widen in shock. “Why didn’t you say something?”  
  
“I did, I called a truce,” Merlin replied, watching as Arthur pulled off his other glove and then offered him the pair. He accepted immediately, pulling them on and smiling as the warmth retained from Arthur’s hands seeped into his own. He smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”  
  
“Come on, let’s get you back to Camelot,” Arthur said, sliding an arm around Merlin’s snow-dampened shoulders and leading him over to the log, where he released him to pick up his coat. He stared at it for a moment, then held it out towards Merlin. “You want this?”  
  
Merlin gave him an odd look. He could scarcely believe how openly concerned Arthur was about him. He wondered if it was because they were alone, with no one even remotely likely to find them. He certainly never acted this way in Camelot. He stayed silent for a moment too long; Arthur sighed and started towards him, shaking the coat out and evidently intending to wrap Merlin up in it. Much as he would have welcomed the warmth of Arthur’s thick, fur-lined winter coat, he held up his hands to fend Arthur off. “No! How’s it going to look if I turn up in Camelot wearing your coat?”  
  
“You’re wearing my gloves,” Arthur reminded him grumpily, although Merlin knew that he could see the point.  
  
“Gloves are gloves. No one’s going to notice. They will notice me wearing that, though,” Merlin replied. He knew that his reasonable tone would only serve to annoy Arthur further, but the prince did shrug on the coat, however grudgingly.  
  
“Fine,” Arthur grumbled, picking up the bag with their skates in it and slinging it carefully over his shoulder. He then held out his free arm to Merlin. “Come here.”  
  
Merlin didn’t need telling more than once. He stepped close, snuggling into Arthur’s side and ignoring the fact that the prince’s outer layers were just as wet as his own clothing. Arthur pulled the coat around his back, then draped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, holding him close. Merlin slid an arm around the prince’s waist in return, pulling them even closer together.  
  
“You’d better not be ill tomorrow,” Arthur warned. Merlin sniffed deliberately, and contrived to look as pathetic as possible. Arthur glared at him. “I mean it!”  
  
Merlin ducked his head so that Arthur wouldn’t see him smile. “Yes, sire.”  
  
“You’re laughing, Merlin, I can feel your shoulders shaking,” Arthur pointed out, squeezing his shoulders momentarily.  
  
“I’m laughing at you getting all worried about me,” Merlin teased, giving up on his pretence. Arthur barked a laugh.  
  
“Worried about you? No, I’m just concerned that I’m going to lose my servant to a bout of flu right when I need him the most,” Arthur corrected him, but then he smiled across at Merlin and paused to press a brief kiss to the end of his reddened nose. “Now come on – I don’t know about you, but I want to get back and have a nice, hot bath.”  
  
With that, Arthur tugged Merlin into motion, leading him back towards Camelot along the path marked out by the footprints they had left behind on their way to the lake.  
  
By the time they got back to Camelot, it had started to snow again. Thick, white flakes fell heavily through the icy air, rapidly filling their footprints and covering their hair and clothes with a layer of slowly-melting white. Merlin started to shiver in earnest as they made their way through the practically deserted streets of the lower town, and Arthur didn’t have the heart to turf him out from under the meagre protection that his coat provided. Reputation be damned, he couldn’t let Merlin freeze.  
  
They reached the castle quickly, and thankfully without bumping into any of Arthur’s knights or Morgana, which meant Arthur didn’t have to attempt to explain himself. They staggered into the relative shelter of the courtyard, and Arthur chivvied Merlin through the nearest doorway. Once they were inside the castle and out of the wind, Merlin’s violent shivering subsided a little and he stopped leaning quite so heavily against the prince’s side. Arthur knew, however, that this meant very little; Merlin was still chilled to the bone, and illness was probably inevitable at this point. He squeezed his manservant’s shoulders and started towards the physician’s chambers, trying not to let too much of his worry show in his expression.

*

Merlin couldn’t sleep. His eyes were heavy with tiredness, but the rasping of his breath against his sore throat and the distant sounds of tonight’s banquet kept him awake. He wondered idly what Arthur was doing, whether he was talking and dancing with the pretty daughters of visiting lords, or steadily getting himself drunk and glowering at anyone who came too close. Considering the prince’s festive attitude when he had wandered in earlier to see if his manservant would be well enough to attend the feast, Merlin suspected it was the former. He sighed and rolled over onto his back, throwing back a swathe of blankets only to pull them back over himself once again seconds later. He wished his body would decide whether to be too hot or too cold.  
  
After another fruitless attempt to drift off, Merlin sat up and swung his legs out of bed. It only took him a few minutes to divest himself of his nightwear and pull on his clothes, and then he was heading out of the physician’s chambers towards the great hall. Merlin shivered as he padded along the chilly corridors with only his socks protecting his feet, and wished that his boots had dried out enough to be wearable. Snow was still falling heavily outside, piling up in miniature drifts against the window panes. Nothing was visible beyond the glass but darkness and swirling eddies of wind-blown snow. Merlin quickened his pace.  
  
The great hall was as full and bright as Merlin had expected. The air smelled of spices and wine, of smoke and the sweat of closely-packed bodies, and dimly of the venison the court had dined on earlier in the evening. Candles flickered everywhere, their soft light gilding the edges of wood and skin and expensive cloth. Somewhere at the opposite end of the hall, the court minstrels were playing a melody that Merlin vaguely recognised as one his mother had sometimes hummed or sung to herself during the winter months.  
  
Then Merlin spotted Arthur. The prince was standing alone beside an elaborate candelabrum, the light from the mass of candles bronzing his skin and hair and glinting off the golden crown that circled his head. The rich, red cloth of his cloak and tunic seemed more vibrant than Merlin remembered. As Merlin watched he lifted his goblet to his lips to take a sip, and noticed Merlin over the rim; he gave Merlin a disapproving look, and walked over.  
  
“I thought you were under orders to stay in bed,” he said pointedly, although Merlin could see a smile hovering around his lips.  
  
“I couldn’t sleep,” Merlin told him, and was surprised by how hoarse his own voice had become.  
  
Arthur’s frown deepened. “You’ll make yourself worse, wandering the corridors at night.”  
  
“Careful, people might get the impression you care,” Merlin warned him with mock seriousness. Arthur snorted and shook his head, shoving his goblet into Merlin’s hands.  
  
“Wait here,” he ordered, before turning and heading towards the high table where Uther was sitting, deep in discussion with one of his advisors. Merlin curled his fingers around the warm metal of the goblet, lifting it to his nose and breathing deeply. He glanced over at Arthur, who was apparently excusing himself from the feast, then took a sip of the prince’s mulled wine. The taste was sharp but not unpleasant, so he took another, longer drink, and felt soothing warmth sliding down his sore throat along with the wine. He closed his eyes and leant back against the doorframe, allowing his mind to wander. A few moments later, Arthur’s voice interrupted his doze. “Two sips of mulled wine and you’re already out of it, Merlin?”  
  
Merlin cracked open his eyes as Arthur plucked the goblet from his hands and set it down on the nearest table. He bit back a yawn and protested, “I’m not drunk, I’m ill – which is _your fault_ , by the way.”  
  
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said, grabbing Merlin by the wrist and leading him out of the great hall and in the direction of his room. Merlin, who had expected Arthur to let go of him as soon as he was sure he would follow, felt himself start to smile when the prince slid his fingers lower so that they were loosely curled around his hand instead.  
  
The corridors were deserted all the way to Arthur’s chambers, but someone had been in to see that a roaring fire awaited them there. Apart from the fire, the room was in darkness, but Merlin could easily recognise the familiar shapes of Arthur’s furniture looming out of the shadows. The bed looked particularly inviting, with its goosefeather pillows that Merlin had fluffed up that morning and the extra layers that had been thrown over the coverlet at the onset of winter. Merlin leant back against the door, and dragged his suddenly heavy eyes off the bed.  
  
Arthur had already shed his cloak and thrown it over the back of a chair. Merlin watched as he reverently removed his crown and carefully placed it down at the head of the table. He then turned and beckoned to Merlin; once he was close enough, he slid his palm onto Merlin’s neck, leaning in for a kiss. Merlin turned his face away with extreme reluctance, placing a hand on Arthur’s chest to hold him off. Much as he wanted to succumb to the prince’s affections, he was tired and the last thing he needed was Arthur blaming him if he caught his burgeoning cold.  
  
“Don’t, you’ll catch what I’ve got,” Merlin told him firmly. Arthur sighed and buried his face in Merlin’s neck, muttering discontentedly to himself. Merlin smiled and closed his eyes, shaking his head at Arthur even as he lifted a hand to stroke his golden hair. A moment later, he yawned loudly and the prince pulled back, taking hold of his shoulders.  
  
“You should be in bed,” he said sternly. Merlin nodded, then glanced speculatively at Arthur’s large, comfortable bed once again. It would be nice, he reflected, to sleep here and wake up warm in the morning. It would also mean that he wouldn’t have to brave the chilly corridors again. He sighed and waved a hand at the door.  
  
“I should go, then.”  
  
When Merlin tried to step away, Arthur’s fingers tightened on his shoulders and he pulled him back. “Stay.”  
  
“Arthur,” Merlin sighed, rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to yawn again. “I’m not well, we can’t –”  
  
“I know that! For goodness’ sake, what do you think I am?” Arthur snapped indignantly, letting go of his shoulder and pacing across to the window. He stared out for a moment, running his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean – I just meant … sleep here.”  
  
Merlin stared at him in surprise. Arthur wanted him to stay, and for the first time wasn’t asking for anything in return. Then the prince looked over his shoulder at him, and Merlin’s chest tightened at the vulnerability written across Arthur’s face. He smiled, and saw relief flood Arthur’s expression. “Can I borrow something to wear in bed?”  
  
“Don’t want much, do you?” Arthur grumbled good-naturedly, going across to his cupboard and rummaging in the darkness for a nightshirt while Merlin pulled his tunic up over his head. Arthur walked across and pressed a kiss to Merlin’s forehead as he handed it to him, then went over to the side of the bed where his own nightshirt lay on the pillow. Merlin watched him as he began to undress, then hurriedly pulled the nightshirt over his head and divested himself of the rest of his clothes. He placed them carefully on the chair, then turned and stood awkwardly at the bottom of the bed. Arthur, who had dropped his own clothes in a rumpled heap on the floor and was settling himself in the bed, glanced up. “Well, are you going to get in, or what?”  
  
Merlin stared dumbly at him for a moment longer, then hurriedly padded around the bed and climbed in. He wriggled under the heavy layers of covers, rolling over so that he faced outwards and curling himself into a ball on the very edge of the bed, not wanting to encroach into Arthur’s space.  
  
Behind him, Merlin heard Arthur sigh, and felt his heart clench. Arthur didn’t want him here; he had only offered this to make up for taking him out into the cold in the first place. He had just taken a breath to offer to leave when a gentle hand slid onto his hip.  
  
“Merlin. Merlin, come here,” Arthur murmured, tugging at him insistently. Merlin squirmed an inch or so closer, and Arthur sighed again, his tone becoming more irritable. “You’ll fall off, if you sleep there.”  
  
Merlin shifted uneasily across a little further, still reluctant to take up more room than was strictly necessary. Then Arthur curled an arm around his waist and pulled him right into the middle of the bed. Merlin could feel Arthur’s body pressed against his own, the prince’s warm breath ghosting over the back of his neck and his knees nudging the backs of his thighs. Arthur rubbed his nose into his hair, and Merlin felt the prince’s lips brush the back of his neck. Emboldened by Arthur’s apparently genuine desire to have him close, Merlin rolled over so that he was facing Arthur and snuggled closer, burying his face in the prince’s chest without looking at him. Arthur chuckled and stroked Merlin’s hair, kissing the top of his head.  
  
“Good night, Merlin,” he murmured.  
  
Merlin smiled as he threw an arm over Arthur’s chest. He took a breath to wish Arthur good night as he shut his eyes, but even as they closed he was already drifting into a deep and welcome sleep.


End file.
